The Confessional

The Catholics get the confessional.

Jews get Yom Kippur.

Bloggers of both and other assorted affiliations get the blog.

Yes, world, welcome to my dirty little secret-smeared hut. Watch where you put your fingers.

I thought it would be fun today, Friday, a day when very few people, for some reason or another, are actually reading blogs, to air some of my filthy laundry and confess some things to the blogosphere.

And, why not? There's nothing a hardcore blogger enjoys more than slicing open his/her wrists and coating the greedy, ogling readers in their shame-juice. We just love letting you get super close to us and then unabashedly vomming all over you in an ardently penitent fashion that you can't help but find utterly charming.

So, I decided that I will confess some dirty, squirmy, vile secrets to you today-- some things I ought to keep to myself, no doubt, but simply can't.

Do I dare?

I do.

----------------

Bless me, Blogosphere, for I have sinned. It's been a while since my last confession, which I guess would have to be this post where I revealed that I took an axe to our basement wall. And now, without further ado, here's the goods:

1.) I often go three or four days in a row without changing trousers.

I know-- I'm disgusting and evil and you probably never want to actually meet me now that you know this revolting fact about me, but it's who I am. I am that guy-- walking around in the same pants he's worn since Tuesday. See, I find it a real chore to unloop my belt, flip it around to the black side, take out my wallet, my cell phone, my Burt's Bees, and any random notes or papers I've written to remind myself about things that I never look at, hang my pants up, go pick out new ones, and then reassemble all the pocket gear every morning.

So I just don't. I do always change underwear, though. Sometimes more than once a day if I found I haven't wiped properly.

2.) Oh, yeah-- sometimes I don't wipe properly. Because I have an anxiety disorder, I'm constantly afraid of a.) missing a phone call, b.) forgetting to do something, c.) being late for an appointment, errand, obligation, d.) some other unknown event rapidly approaching on the horizon that I sometimes rush through the wiping procedure, leaving an undignified reminder. Really, I'm not a bad man. I just have mental disorders, which sometimes become anal ones.

3.) When I use Q-Tips to extract ear wax while sitting on the toilet in my parent's bathroom, I still throw the Q-Tips behind the bathroom radiator, instead of rising from the toilet and taking two steps to throw them in the trashcan. If you want to talk about the power of learned behavior, I've been committing this perverted life error since 1985.

4.) I care about what you think of me. Isn't that fucked up?

5.) After people leave the room I'm in, I always talk shit about them if there's someone else in the room to listen. Always. If there's no one in the room after the person leaves, I think about doing awful, unspeakable things to them with staple-removers and used Q-Tips. I would do it about you, too, because I have no soul.

6.) My office chair smells like farts and dead bison.

7.) I frequently have the need to clear the history of both my home and work computers. The home computer is because of porn, the work computer is because of blogging and frequent ebaymotors abuse.

8.) I don't especially mind being Jewish, but I don't want to look Jewish. When I was fourteen I asked my barber to give me a haircut that would make my hair look like Niles Crane's. He looked at me and said, "I can't do that." Sure, the plastic surgeons can rhinoplasty your fucking Jew conk off, but the goddamn barber can't Aryanize your kinked-ass bushmop.

9.) Speaking of my nose-- several years ago I discovered that, if I squeeze on it hard enough, a substance resembling "Good Spray Cheese" comes out the pores. Hope you're not reading this during breakfast!

10.) I am never quite sure if I'm a good person, or a very, very bad person.

11.) I want my nephew to become at least three because, right now, he bores the shit out of me.

12.) I've told lies to pretty much every person I've ever met, except for my wife.

13.) Even though it makes me sound like a woman, I'm pretty much only ever truly happy when I'm cuddling and/or eating chocolate.

14.) I don't give a fuck who wins the World Series. And, yes, I'm from Philadelphia.